


The Christmas Dinner

by FinaFee8



Series: Carry On SnowBaz [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:37:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinaFee8/pseuds/FinaFee8
Summary: Simon and Baz are invited to a Christmas dinner with Baz's family. It's the first time they really confront Baz's parents as a couple. This will be everything but easy...





	1. Chapter 1

**Simon**

 “Do I look okay?”

 “You look stunning, Snow. Like always.”

 “Your opinion doesn’t count,” I say groaning. “I just don’t want that your parents think I’m –”

 “You look fine, believe me.” Baz smiles at me and straightens my tie. (It makes me feel like I’m 10.) He wears the green suit under his coat which he already wore last year. It’s still my favourite – he just looks perfect in it. I’m wearing a new blue suit I bought a few weeks ago. Together with Baz. And Penny.

 We stand in front of the house of Baz’s family. It’s even more frightening than the first one, which they had to leave because of the Humdrum – because of me. The snowfall gets stronger with every minute and the wind howls through the forest. I’m pretty sure there will be a heavy storm tonight.

 “Stay calm, Simon,” Baz says softly. “Everything’s going to be alright – they won’t poison you or poke you with a stick.”

 “But they want to get rid of me – they want me out of your life!” I wipe my already sweaty hands on my trousers.

 “Doesn’t matter,” he replies and turns to the door. “Ready to ring?”

 “No,” I say honestly. “Why do we even have to do this? We just could drive back home or go with Penny to her family – they at least like me!”

 “This only would make things worse,” Baz says. “If we don’t appear at this dinner tonight they will accuse you to keep me away from my own family – you don’t want that burden too, right?”

 “No, of course not but –” 

 Baz presses the bell.

 “I’m not ready! I –,” I start to complain but Baz makes me shut up with a short kiss.

 “Just be yourself – then they can’t help but fall in love with you.”

 “They already hate me,” I tear on my collar because I have the feeling of not getting enough air, “because of me just being myself.”

 “You just shouldn’t mention…” The door opens and cuts Baz off.

 “Merry Christmas, Mr Pitch, Mr Snow,” says the woman who opened the door in a high and gentle tone. I remember her from my first visit to the Pitches estate.

 “Merry Christmas, Vera,” Baz says with a very charming voice. I only manage to nod.

 “Please come in,” the woman says and she waves us through the door.

 Even when this house is smaller than the old one it’s still way too huge for only one family. The entrance hall is already almost as big as our flat. You feel like you’re in a Victorian history museum and are not allowed to touch anything. (That’s a challenge. Especially for me. A tail, wings and … just being me.)

 “May I take your coats?” Vera asks and already reaches for my grey duffle coat. I hurry to get out of it, without crumbling my suit.

 “Thank you,” Baz says with a lovely smile. He’s really good at all this _nice guest_ stuff. I can’t even smile because my jaw is so strained. It’s frustrating.

 She takes our coats and vanishes behind a door. Baz and I are left alone. I exhale.

 “Try to calm down,” Baz whispers right a second before his parents enter the room. “Your tail already hit my legs.”

 I really try but I can’t really control it. Fortunately, it’s invisible. My wings are cast very small, so you can’t spot them under my suit. Penny and Baz are constantly experimenting with new spells to tame them.

 “Basilton,” his father says and steps closer to us. He pats Baz’s shoulder in a weird distant way and gives him a quick smile.

 “Merry Christmas, Father,” Baz replies and nods. He stands really straight; his hands are folded on his back and his whole attitude seems really confident. I try to copy him because I feel anything but confident. So, I nock up my chin, square my shoulders, place my feet apart and fold my hands. I still don’t feel better.

 Baz’s Father reaches his hand out to me and I grab it and shake it two times. I hope my grip isn’t too wobbly.

 “Welcome to our modest home, Mr Snow,” he says and scans me from top to bottom. “How nice of you to join our Christmas dinner this year. Basil never brought someone with him before.”

 “I’m very grateful for your invitation, …Sir,” I mumble and swallow. On the way here, I thought about a few sentences I should say when I meet Baz’s parents but I don’t remember any, so I decide this has to be enough for the time being.

 Mrs Grimm – his stepmother – hugs Baz and gives him a brief kiss on his forehead. I try not to stare at her, but it’s strange to see them both interacting that intimately. I only saw Baz a few times with his family together – but I never considered that he could be close to them. Well, it’s still a bit stiff.

 “Nice to see you again, Mr Snow,” she greets me afterwards with a polite smile.

 “You can call him Simon,” Baz says and winks at me. I just nod.

 “Well then, let’s go into the dining room, Simon,” she invites me and points at the corridor.

 With a distance of a few metres, Baz and I follow them. I flinch as Baz takes my hand.

 “It’s just me, Snow,” he mutters and kisses my fingers. “You don’t have to jump.”

 “I just thought we wouldn’t do this in here,” I answer silently.

 “Do what?”

 “Holding hands in front of your parents,” I whisper. “Stuff like this.”

 “We aren’t in front of them right now, and besides, why shouldn’t we? They know about us so we don’t have to hide.” He squeezes my palm.

 They lead us into an old-fashioned (like everything here) room with a very formally laid table. There are plenty of huge plates of good looking food. And it smells really delicious. If it’s as good as the dinner I ate here last year at Christmas Eve, I could polish off everything – but I’m so tense that even the thought of eating makes me sick. Too bad for the good meal.

 “Please take a seat,” Mrs Grimm says. “I go and look for the kids.” She leaves the room so only Baz’s father, Baz and I are left. Mr Grimm sits down at the other end of the table. He’s wearing a grey suit and his long white hair is slid back like Baz’s. His face is unreadable but at the same time, you can clearly tell that he isn’t delighted about my visiting. (Or even about me as a whole person.) I only met him two…maybe three times after last Christmas and he never really talked to me. I always just stood there next to Baz and tried to be invisible. So, this is the first time I’m really facing him. But I still don’t feel prepared for it…

 I don’t know where to take place but Baz reaches for my arm and pulls me to the chair right next him. I’m really thankful for the opportunity to sit because my legs are so shaky. I slide back and forth because I can’t decide how to sit properly. Baz’s watching me and lays his hand on my knee to make me stop. It only makes me more nervous. I literally can feel the eyes of his father burning into my chest.

 “And Basil, how was your Christmas Eve?” his dad asks. “After all, it was the first time you didn’t celebrate at home.”

 Something in his voice makes even this small phrase sounding like an accusation.

 “It was very nice, Father,” Baz responds relaxed. “I celebrated at Simon’s, together with his roommate Penelope Bunce.”

 “Yeah, I remember her,” he replies in a way that makes you wish he wouldn’t remember you. “I’m glad you had a nice celebration.”

 “Me, too. How was your evening?” Baz asks – surely just being polite.

 “Quiet,” his dad answers and folds his hands. “We ate dinner and the children went to bed soon like every year.”

 I take a deep breath and ask one of my prepared questions because I want to seem interested – so they might at least like me a bit. “Mr Grimm, what do you do for a living?” I ask and try a polite smile.

 Instead of answering me, he looks at Baz and says: “Interesting that you two don’t talk about the important stuff.”

 Baz grimaces but he doesn’t reply. My hands get sweaty again. I don’t know what I did wrong – but decide to be quiet for starters.

 Right at this moment, Mrs Grimm comes back with Baz’s siblings: Mordelia, the twins and the little baby (which starts to become a toddler) in the arms of his mother.

 “Hello Basil,” Mordelia says and pulls on the chair across from me. She sits down and stares at my face. “Why are _you_ here again?” she asks frowning.

 “Mordelia, please be polite to our guest,” Mrs Grimm responds and puts the baby in a highchair with gargoyles on it, right next to me. I don’t know how, but it makes me feel uncomfortable.

 “Yes, Mum.” The girl takes her napkin and lays it on her lap.

 “I told you last week that I’ll bring Simon to our Family Christmas dinner,” Baz says to his sister. “But probably you didn’t listen very well. Like always.”

 Mordelia gives him a wrathful look. “This means Simon is part of our family now?” she asks with raised eyebrows. I stare at my plate.

 “Yes, little sister. Kind of he is,” Baz says with a voice that doesn’t allow any protest. I hear his father clearing his throat. I swallow.

 “Let us start with the dinner,” Mrs Grimm requests and takes her place at the other end of the table, facing her husband. The two little girls sit on the opposite side of me. So, now all three kids are staring at me and the baby punches his spoon against my shoulder. It makes me feel like I’m the first course. I want to be out of here. _Now._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Baz**

 

The dinner finally starts. The plates with mountains of food go around and everyone loads their own plate with it – everyone but me. I still don’t eat in front of my family – not even when I’m starving. Simon takes a bit of everything but he seems confused by all the different kinds of forks and knives. His hands are trembling a bit.

 “Just work from the outside to the inside,” I whisper to him. “I taught you, remember?”

 He nods and takes the first knife.

 “Did Santa bring you presents, too?” Mordelia asks me after a few minutes of painful silence. “He brought me a huge dollhouse this year!”

 “If it’s so huge, then how did it fit through the chimney?” I respond to mock her. She seems to think about it. Then she shakes her head. “Maybe Santa dissembled it to get it through the chimney and then he glued it back together.” Nothing can shatter her faith in Santa. It’s kind of cute. (And kind of thick.)

 “And what did he bring for you?” she asks again, chewing on a turkey leg.

 “Don’t talk with a full mouth,” Daphne reproves her. “That’s unpolite.”

 “I’ve got nice presents from Simon and Bunce,” I say. Snow next to me chortles.

 “But _Simon_ isn’t Santa…” Mordelia glances at him. Probably searching for any similarities. He blushes and drinks a huge sip of his glass of milk. “And who is _Bunce?_ ”

 “Bunce is the henchman of Santa,” I respond with a mischievously smile. “He only comes to you if you’re naughty.”

 “So, you were naughty?” She looks back to me.

 “I’m always naughty,” I say.

 “Because you’ve got a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend?”

 Simon chokes on his milk and starts to cough desperately while the baby steals his fork right out of his hand. Father stops eating, Daphne looks embarrassed and the twins just keep chewing their potatoes.

 I clear my throat. “No,” I say calmly. “Because I’m a vampire.” This makes my father cough now. I never said it in front of all children before. I’m quite sure, my siblings don’t even know that I _am_ a vampire. It only would disturb them. And me being a vampire is one of the taboo topics in this house. Like me being queer. Or my dead mother.

 “Basilton!” my father says sharply and gives me a warning look. “Don’t scare your sister by telling this nonsense!”

 Wow, now me being a vampire is even _nonsense_ just to _scare_ my little sister. I feel how all my blood shoots into my head and everything in me wants to scream at him but instead, I stare at my empty plate, biting my tongue. Mordelia obviously decides to shut up and doesn’t dare to look at me again. She probably thinks I’m just joking.

 To distract myself from being angry, I glimpse at Simon, who tries to get his fork back from the baby, but as he finally regains it, the baby catches his invisible wagging tail instead. Simon tries to free it out of his little fingers but his grip is too tight. He starts sweating. I quickly pull out my wand under the table and whisper **“Stop it!”** right before the baby starts to chew on his tail.

 My parents stare at us with big eyes – they don’t know about Simon’s dragon remains and they really shouldn’t. This only would make him – in their eyes – much worse than he already is.

 “Everything alright, Simon?” Daphne asks with a tense smile.

 “Yeah…Everything’s fine,” he mumbles while he’s clutching his invisible tail. “I just…I have to go to the bathroom.” He stands up, accidentally knocking the bottle of the baby down, which starts to cry and then leaves with a short excuse. I need a few seconds to remember that Simon hasn’t the slightest idea where the bathroom could be, so, I follow him and tell my parents that I don’t want him to get lost in this huge building. (Which’s true. I’m sure he wouldn’t even find the way back to the entrance door.) (I wouldn’t either if I weren’t here a couple of times before.) (And I also want to be out of this room.)

 I walk down the corridor and find Simon sitting on the stairs. His head resting in his hands. I shove my hands in my pockets and step next to him.

 “Don’t get hijacked by the nasty ghosts which haunt these rooms,” I say, which makes him wince.

 “Crowley, Baz!” He rubs his eyes and looks up to me. (He even starts cursing like me. This makes me grin.) “Why are you following me?”

 “Do you want me to go back?” I ask frowning.

 “No.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me next to him, sitting on a stair. “No, stay.”

 “Are you okay?” I take his hand into mine. “I’m sorry. Sometimes the baby can be –”

 “I don’t care about this fucking baby!” Simon interrupts me and I can feel his wagging tail on my back. “I care about how they talk to us. To you!”

 “They didn’t say much –”

 “ _That’s_ exactly the problem!” he says. “They don’t talk. They…they only yell at you when you say that you’re a vampire. You don’t eat in front of them because you’re a vampire. You can’t be yourself in this house.”

 I stare at our hands. I know that he’s right, but it was always like this. It’s normal for me to hide myself.

 “And you don’t defend yourself,” he goes on. “You let them silence you. You hide your fangs. Maybe that’s even worse!”

 “I decided on my own not to eat at my family’s table. It just felt awkward,” I say. And because the children would ask questions why I eat with my hand in front of my mouth. Normally, I just endure their ignorance, their constant disappointment. That’s how I survive conversation without confrontations.

 “Yeah, because they gave you the feeling that having fangs is strange,” Simon responds.

 “Well, it fucking _is_.” I catch myself sucking on my eyeteeth. They aren’t popped out but I can still feel them.

 “But as your parents, they should act like this is normal. Like being a vampire is okay. They should support you – not deny you.” Simon runs his hand through his hair. “It’s…it’s just not fair.”

 “It’s okay, Simon,” I say and remove his fingers out of his hair. He needed hours today to get his hair neatly parted and slicked back. He even asked me to cast a spell on it. (What I would never dare.) And I don’t want him to ruin it now.

 “But it shouldn’t.” He turns his face to me.

 “Did you really wanted to go to the toilet?” I ask him and stroke a curl out of his forehead.

 “No. I just had to get out there for a moment.”

 “Then we should go back now.”

 “I don’t want to.”

 “Come on, Snow. It could be worse.”

 “This stupid baby tried to eat my tail!” Simon complains furiously. “And because you spelt it invisible, your stepmother looked like she thought I wanted to abuse her baby!”

 I have to laugh. “You will survive it. That were only the first ten minutes.”

 He grumbles and I raise him to his feet as I get up.

 “I should go first,” I say. “And you can follow in two minutes. I don’t want them to think we went to the bathroom _together_.”

 “Okay,” he mutters. Reluctantly, he lets go of my hands. I kiss his cheek, then I go back to the dining hall.

 The baby stopped crying and my parents seem like they recovered. The girls just keep eating. I sit down on my chair. Nobody says anything.

 After way more minutes than two, Simon finally comes back and takes his place. He seems a little less nervous.

 “Basil?” Daphne asks me smiling.

 “Yes, Mother?” I answer and smile back.

 “I thought maybe you could play something on your violin for us. Later – after we finished dinner,” she says while she loads mashed potatoes on the plate of the baby.

 “I could,” I mumble. “If it delights you.” I don’t feel like presenting my violin skills tonight. Even though, I’m really good at it, I don’t like to play in front of an audience.

 “I would love to hear you play,” my stepmother responds. “I didn’t hear you for quite a while.”

 “Yes, I can do it,” I accede. “After the dinner.” Only that for me after dinner is before dinner…

 “Do you play an instrument, Simon?” Daphne asks. Simon looks up from his plate at which he stares like it’s his fixpoint to keep balance on one leg. (He hasn’t eaten anything since he’s back.)

 “Me?” he asks confused. “No…I…I can’t play anything. I mean I can’t play any instrument.”

 “This is a pity. I’m sure you’ve got a talent for it,” she answers. I appreciate her trying to involve Simon, but I wish she would just let it be. She won’t get the answers she would like to hear. “Maybe Basil can show you how to play the violin someday.”

 “So they waste even more time together?” My father mutters these words with such a soft voice that probably I’m the only one who heard them. Nevertheless, it feels like a knife ramming into my stomach. I could just overhear it – like always, but then I remember Simon’s words. That I should defend myself. So, I decide to fight back. For the first time.

 “ _What_ was that, Father?” I ask extra friendly and look at him with one raised eyebrow.

 “Did you think about my offer?” he asks me instead of answering my question.

 “Which offer?” I cross my arms in front of my chest.

 “The offer to move to us and study in Oxford.”

 “There is absolutely nothing to think about,” I respond. “I won’t leave London.” I feel how Simon gets tighten next to me. Like me, he knows that it’s starting right now. The part I wanted to spare him.

 “However, Oxford has the best magickal professor for economics. Professor Montgomery. You know him, don’t you?”

 “My professor in London is fine,” I say calmly. Though, I’m visiting the London School of Economics, which is a school for Normals, I get lessons from a mage who connects the subjects with the world of mages. I have to visit this course twice a week, so I can get a job in the magickal business later. For my family – especially for my father – it’s more than important that I make a big _magickal_ career. And it’s not like I don’t want this, too – I don’t want to separate myself completely from the world of mages. But lately, I just can’t see me in there. Maybe it’s because of Simon’s lost magic. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to remind him constantly, what _he_ will never have.

 “Basilton, I just want the best education for you,” my father responds and nips on his wine glass. “I want you to keep our reputation. The reputation of our _family_. You were always the best at Watford. Your grades were always the finest. You were at the top of your class. You used to be the pride of our family.”

 These words could sound like a compliment – like he wanted to show me how proud he was. How good I _used_ to be. But the way how he’s saying it is nothing but an expression of his disappointment. He could ignore all my flaws when I was the best in school after all. As I shared his disapproval for the Mage and his heir. When I hated Simon Snow. Now I’m not under his thumb anymore. And all he sees is what I’m not.

 Simon’s fingers find mine and squeeze them like he wants to comfort me. But it only remembers me that he is here and that he can hear all this bloody mess my dad is talking about – and this makes me even angrier. I swallow and square my shoulders. But when I want to respond, Simon already opened his mouth.

 “But I think Baz’s grades are completely fine,” he says while his one hand is still holding mine and the other one is clutching his fork. “I mean it’s … it’s a lot of stuff and we always learn hours together. I don’t under –“

 “Simon, shut up!” I mumble through clenched teeth. He stops immediately and looks penitent at me. I know he just tries to help me, but he got it all entirely wrong. Because all this stupid drivel isn’t about my grades. That’s not the real problem.

 Simon lets go of my hand and starts to poke in his food. I can feel his wagging tail. (I hope the baby doesn’t catch it again.) My father stares at his hands and seems like he hasn’t heard Simon at all.

 “Your education is so important for your mother,” he mutters, shaking his head. This cuts deeper than everything he said before. I glance over at him with narrowed eyebrows.

 “It _was_ important for her,” I hiss at him. “And don’t you dare to use her as an excuse for _this_!”

 I hear Daphne clearing her throat. “Children, what do you think about playing with your Christmas presents? You can come back for the dessert.” The kids leave their chairs and Daphne takes the baby out of his highchair and then only Simon, my father and me are left. All you can hear is an enormous thunder of the storm outside. (At least the weather fits my emotional state.)

 After a few moments of awkward silence, my father raises his chin and looks like he wants to hold his next _Your Education is the most Important_ talk. But I’m first. I can’t stand this sideshow any longer.

 “Let’s stop to beat around the bush! We all know that my grades aren’t the problem,” I say – the first time with a raised voice. “Neither is mum!”

 Simon next to me is holding his breath. I wish I could avoid this confrontation, but we can’t keep tipping around the actual _issue_. The real reason, why I’m nothing but a disappointment for him.

 “I’m afraid I cannot quite follow you here, Basilton.” Father leans back in his chair and watches me frowning.

 “Oh, you do. But we are Pitches. We don’t talk about _things_ ,” I sneer. “Come on, say it!”

 “Say what?”

 “Enlighten us about your problem. Right now, right here. Into my face. In front of him!” I give my father a provocative look. (What’s normally untypical for me.)

“I don’t allow my son to talk to me in this way!” he replies with a calm and deep voice. _Nothing but a disappointment…_

 “Because that’s all I am for you,” I hurl at him. “Your Son. The only remaining piece of _her_. Your damned Heir. Nothing more! You don’t want to see the rest of me. The real me. The bloodsucking Vampire. The boy who dates Simon Snow. Come on, Father! Let’s get over yourself and say it! Say what you really think!” I literally spit the last words at him. But he just looks at me with tired eyes. And that’s the significant spark which makes me explode.

 “Say, that you don’t want me to be with Simon! That you want me to break up with him! Because he’s a _boy_ and a Normal and because he’s _Simon fucking Snow –_ the former heir of the mage! You want me to marry a pretty woman and you want to forget that I’m a vampire and to pass all our family pride to the next generation of little Pitches!” I never shouted at him like that before. I never slammed my fist on the table in front of him before.

 My father takes a deep breath and folds his hands. “All I want you to be is a dignified heir of the Pitches – for your mother,” he finally starts to talk. Now even he lost his composure. “Your only quest is to pass on her name and to be the pride of our family! But you have to overcome this ridiculous act of rebellion against your duty!”

 I stare at him. Stunned. I can endure his permanent denying of myself, but I can’t let him treat Simon like a piece of shit. I never thought that it would hurt this much to hear him saying it aloud. I grasp Simon’s hand, which is trembling a little and raise our crossed fingers. “So, you think _this_ is only an _act of rebellion?!_ ”

 Father looks at me for a few seconds with an impenetrable look. Then he turns his head to Simon – the first time this evening.

 “Mr Snow, how is it to be the Chosen One for Basilton’s rebellion against the old families?”

 I’m done. I’m so done. With a straight face, I rise from my chair and leave the room. Without a word.


	3. Chapter 3

**Simon**

I stare at my hands. They’re trembling. And my eyes burn. I don’t dare to glance at Mr Grimm or answer him. I don’t even remember his question. And I have to get out of here. I have to follow Baz. So, I get up and shove my chair to the table.

 “The dinner… err… it was really delicious,” I stutter, while I cling to the back of the chair. (It’s one of the sentences I had arranged on the way here.) “Excuse me.”

 I stumble out of the dining hall into the corridor without a last look at Baz’s father. Because I don’t know where I’ll find Baz, I just stray disoriented through the floors. I can feel how tears run over my cheeks. I really don’t want to cry. (I especially don’t want Baz’s parents to _see_ me cry – _Jesus!_ ) But I can’t help – my nerves are wrecked.

 Right at the moment when I decide to call for Baz, I find him on the top of the stairs. He has – for my taste – a way too huge flame in his hand with which he burns a bunch of flowers in a Victorian vase.

 “Shit, Baz!” I cry out and beat his hand away. “What are you doing?!”

 He glances at me with a fierce face. His eyes are almost black and his lips are curled full of anger. His hair falls into his face which makes him look even more furious. 

 “ _Fuck off!”_ he yells and instead of burning, he slams the flowers against the wall. The vase shatters into thousand pieces. It makes me flinch.

 “I knew it! I knew this would end like crap!” he shouts and stomps through the room, probably searching for more things to destroy. “He’s such a fucking git!” Baz grasps a statue of a woman without arms and legs, and wants to throw it down the stairs. I grip his arms to make him stop. (The statue looks pretty expensive even though she’s totally ugly.) (I know there is another term for things like this, but I can’t remember it right now…) 

 “ _Baz!”_ I shout and turn him to me. “ _Calm down!_ ”

 But he frees himself out of my grip and slams the _bust_ – now I finally remember the word – on the floor. (At least not downstairs, so she doesn’t break.)

 “I can’t just calm down, Simon!” he barks at me and I could swear I see his fangs popping. I never saw him in such a rage since his fight against the Mage. I trip a step back. Try to hold back these stupid tears.

 “Did you hear what he was saying?! Did you listen to him?” He’s facing me now. “ _An act of rebellion?!_ Is he fucking serious?!”

 His fangs make him look completely mad. I reach for his hand because he _has_ to calm down, but he doesn’t let me take it.

 “You know what? You were right!” He hurls his arms through the air. “I shouldn’t hide myself anymore! I should confront them all with the truth – with their bloodsucking queer son! And then we both run away and they can tell everyone it was only an _act of rebellion!_ Oh, but they won’t tell them that I’m a vampire – this would destroy _our_ reputation! _Fuck off!_ ” He kicks against the wall and for a moment I’m afraid that it will crack.

 “ _Baz!_ ” I grab his shoulders and push him against the wall. “ _Stop it!_ Destroying the house won’t change _anythin_ g! And you really don’t want your parents to see you like _this!_ ” I feel how the tears find their way over my face. _Damn it!_

 But instead of stopping, Baz pushes me away and I almost crash against a sideboard. He totally lost his control.

 “ _Won’t change anything?!”_ he shouts and makes a step in my direction. And at this moment, I’m really scared of him. Or _for_ him. “ _You_ told me to rebel! _You_ said I shouldn’t let them talk to me like that!” He spits the words through his fangs and points with his finger at my chest. “And _you_ wanted me to show myself and now when the worst comes to the worst and stuff gets real you want me to step back?! That’s pathetic, Snow! Even for you!”

 “ _No, Baz! Stop!_ ” I raise my voice and shove him back from me. Tears drop from my chin. “I know you’re angry, but you don’t have to take it out on me!” I shake my head and wipe with my sleeve over my cheeks. He stares at me with wide opened eyes and then he finally lets go. His face softens. His arms drop. His eyes scan my face. Probably recognizing these fucking tears I couldn’t hold back.

 “Simon…I…,” he mumbles and his fangs vanish. Finally. _Thanks, Merlin._

 Now he stands there, right in front of me with such a painful glance in his eyes that I almost regret yelling at him. He wants to reach for my hand, but exactly in this second, I hear the voice of his stepmother shouting through the corridors.

 “ _Basilton?”_ she calls out for him. I literally see how Baz’s pulse shoots to dangerous heights again.

 “Just let us get out of here!” he says and turns to the stairs. “I can’t stay under this damned roof any longer!” He stamps downstairs and I hurry to follow him. He almost runs through the floors and it takes effort to keep up with him. Several times, I try to slow him down, but he’s so focused on the way out that he probably doesn’t even recognize me. We enter the entrance hall and Baz steers for the wardrobe and takes our coats. The woman who opened the door for us – Vera – turns up and tries to hold us back.

 “Mr Pitch, Mr Snow, you want to leave?”

 “Yes, Vera,” Baz answers and gets into his black coat. “Could you tell my mother that I’m very sorry about the cancelled serenade. Thank you.” Then he leaves through the door. I mumble a short “Goodbye” to Vera, who looks totally confused, then I follow Baz into the cold. The snow beats against my face and I have to raise my arms in front of my eyes. It’s hard to spot out Baz in this turmoil of snow and wind, but I find him a few metres ahead of me.

 “Baz, wait!” I shout and run towards him.

 “Hurry up, Snow!” he responds and heads for the car, which is completely buried in snow. He starts to shove all the snow from the roof and the windows, cursing. I thought he had started to calm down, but this stupid blizzard brought back his full anger. I help him to free the car but the windshield is entirely frozen. Baz sparks flames in his palms and starts to thaw the ice. I hate it when he does this. I’m always afraid that he accidentally burns himself.

 The snow lashes around him, pulls on his clothes and tears at his hair but he just ignores it. As he finally freed the glass, he bursts the doors open (mine too, because they are frozen and he has super strength) and we both take place at the front seats – Baz at the steering wheel. He searches for the key, still cursing. I decide that I better shut up and don’t make anything worse, so I just try to warm my hands. At least the tears had stopped for a moment. (Or they’re just frozen. It’s so fucking cold here.)

 Baz twists the ignition, but the car doesn’t even make a sound.

 “Oh, come on!” he shouts and presses oppressively the gas pedal. But still, nothing happens.

 “Maybe…maybe we should stay here,” I say carefully.

 “What? No! I don’t go back into this house,” Baz snorts, still trying to start the car.

 “But the car doesn’t work. And all this snow, Baz. The roads will be icy. And you’re not able to cast free the whole way to London,” I respond and shake the snow out of my hair and off my shoulders.

 Baz rests his head on the wheel, and for a moment I think he finally gives up, but then he pushes against the door, jumps out of the car and runs to the front. I groan and get out, too. The snow hits me like a whip.

 “Baz, you can’t repair a car!” I have to shout against thunder and the howling wind while Baz breaks the bonnet open. “And **Get well soon** won’t work. It’s not a human being. And it’s not really broken. It’s just frozen,” I continue as he tries the spell.

  **“Some like it hot!”** he speaks instead. The engine starts burning. I push Baz roughly aside.

 “ _Smoke and Mirrors!”_ I scream and throw snow on the flames. They lapse. I rub my eyes and turn to Baz. He stands in the light of the car headlights and buries his hands in his hair. He’s already fully covered in snow again.

 “You have to calm down, Baz! You can’t even control your magic anymore! You could have _burned_ yourself!” I scream at him. I feel how my eyes start burning again. I can’t control myself anymore either. (Hell, the former me would have set the whole estate on fire with all my magic.) 

 I lay my palms on Baz’s face and force him to look at me. “ _Baz_ ,” I say and catch his gaze. “We can’t leave!”

 “But we can’t stay here!” He shakes his head but I hold him tight.

 “We have to! The car won’t drive.”

 “Then we walk back to London!”

 “Don’t be nuts! We will be dead before we even reach the highway!”

 “Can’t you just fly us back? What do you have wings for?”

 “Did you recognize this fucking _storm_?! I can’t fly! And I’m so exhausted. I can barely walk.” I lay my hands on his neck. “We _can’t_ leave, okay? We _have to_ stay!”

 I can see how he swallows it. How he finally lets it reach his mind. The tension leaves his face and he closes his eyes. A tear finds its way down his cheek. I untighten my grip on his neck and smooth with one hand his hair out of his face. It’s sopping from all this snow.

 “It’s okay,” I whisper, not sure if he can hear me above the howling wind. “It’s okay.”

 Then he wraps both arms around me and buries his face in my shoulder. I draw him even closer to me and lay my arms around his back. I don’t know how long we stand there like that – surrounded by the raging storm. In the shine of the headlights. I guess until Baz stops shaking. Until all his rage left in tears. My tears are back, too. But this time I don’t try to hold them back. I let them melt my frozen face.

 “I’m so sorry,” Baz mumbles on my ear and tightens his grip around my shoulders. “I shouldn’t lose myself like this. I…I…am just so _angry_ …”

 “I know,” I answer and shove him back so I can look into his eyes. “It’s okay. Really.”

 “No. It’s not.” Baz eyes are swollen and red. He looks so burned out. So hurt. “I screamed at you because I was angry at my father. That’s not okay.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Baz**

Maybe I’m even a bigger disappointment in being a good boyfriend, than in being a dignified son. Because instead of rebuilding Simon after this awful dinner, I only cared about my own anger. I didn’t saw him. How hurt _he_ was. I made it even worse by screaming at him. Crowley, I nearly made him fall as I pushed him.

 Maybe it’s because I’m a vampire, but there was this moment when I just wanted to hurt everything and everyone around me. And this shouldn’t happen. That _must_ not happen. But I couldn’t control it. It’s rare that I’m in such a rage but these words from my father – or maybe even the words he didn’t dare to say, made me furious. I knew he doesn’t accept Simon and especially not as my boyfriend, but hearing him say that being with Simon is only to get under his skin…Well, that hits. It felt like all this rage which I had swallowed and hid over all the years he had hushed me, had risen to the surface and burst out. I couldn’t hold it back.

 Now all I feel is weariness. I have to lean against Simon, who barely can’t stand either. His face is still flushed but at least he stopped crying. I’m not sure if I did. My face feels so numb, I’m afraid I can’t speak anymore.

 “We should go back in,” Simon whispers. His lips are already blue. How long do we stand here like this?

 “I presume,” I mumble back, not able to say more. Simon wraps his left arm around my waist and shoves me into the right direction. I guess we look like two snowmen stomping through the storm because I can hardly see any of my black coat.

 I know Simon is right. In this damn blizzard, it would be too dangerous to drive back to London. But it costs all my pride to go back into my father’s house.

 Vera looks very surprised and at the same time very relieved about our return.

 “You’re back?” she asks and wants to reach for our dripping coats, but I just ignore her and pull Simon – who stops at the middle of the rug – with me. I tramp over the wooden floor so it gets all covered with snow. I hear Vera complaining but I’m too tired to argue. She follows us upstairs, probably cleaning the floor behind us.

 “I can show you your rooms,” she says and guides us into a corridor to our left. I turn around – still holding Simon’s hand – and look at her with one raised eyebrow. “ _Rooms?_ ”

 “Yes,” she answers. “The one for Mr Snow’s right here,” she points at the door next to her, “and the one for you, Mr Pitch, is at the end of the corridor.”

 Simon’s fingers cramps around mine and I take a deep breath. I’m too tired for all this shit. So, I just smile at Vera and pull Simon with me into my room. I shove him through the door and shut it behind us.

 The room looks very similar to my old one in Hampshire. There is this huge bed with stupid gargoyles on it, a couch and a fireplace. And then there’s also a small bathroom behind a second door. I hope there’re no ghosts inside here.

 Simon slips out of his muddy shoes and his wet coat and suit jacket, but I just shuffle to the bed and sit down on it. The leftover snow falls from my shoulders onto the blanket. I don’t care.

 “Merlin, it’s so cold in here,” Simon complains while he runs into the bathroom to take a towel. He rubs it over his head and tries to dry his hair. Now his curls look totally tousled. I like it better this way. He throws it to me, but I just let it rest in my hands and stare at it. The melting snow drops from my hair into my palms.

 “Are you okay?” Simon asks softly and sits down next to me. I don’t answer. I don’t know why. I guess I just don’t know what to say.

 “Should we make a fire?” He glances to the fireplace, probably thinking about how to make a fire the Normal way. I could set it in a second but I can’t get up right now. I can’t even reach for my wand. I keep staring at my hands, watching the drops run down my fingers.

 “Baz.” Simon touches my chin and turns my face into his direction. I can’t look into his eyes, so I just stare at the three moles on his cheek. “Please talk to me.”

 “What should I say?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.

 “What are you thinking about?” The water drops on his hand.

 “Nothing,” I respond and turn my head away again.

 “That’s not true,” Simon whispers and strokes a loose wisp of hair behind my ear. I don’t answer.

 “You did nothing wrong today, you know that, don’t you?” His warm fingertips tickle my cheek. I still ignore him.

 “At some point, you would have had to confront your father one way or another. He has to face _us_ ,” Simon says gently. “Because _this_ is not going away.”

 “I know,” I mumble quietly. I still can’t look at him. I don’t know why. I don’t even know what exactly is wrong with me right now. But I feel so dull. So stupid.

 “But then, what’s bothering you?” His fingers find mine. His are warm again, mine are still cold like ice.

 “I’m fine.” I wouldn’t believe myself right now either, but I don’t know what to say otherwise.

 “Are you thirsty? How long didn’t you drink something? Do you have to go hunting?”

 “I’m okay.”

 “Come on, Baz. You really start to worry me if you don’t talk.” He turns my face back to his. I finally look into his blue eyes. But they look so tired.

 “It’s just…everything,” I mutter, shaking my head. “The whole day. It’s all so…humiliating. _Exhausting_.”

 “I know,” Simon answers and moves his thumb along my cheekbone. “But the day isn’t over yet.” He smiles and leans forward to kiss me. His lips are so hot. They burn like fire on mine. He places one hand on my neck and pulls me closer. The heat from his hand shoots down my back. Some of the numbness leaves my body.

 “Do you try to cheer me up?” I ask as I pull back for a second.

 “Does it work?”

 “Hmm…” Smiling, I take him by the back of his neck and kiss him firmly. My soaked sleeves moisten his collar. He shivers because of the cold.

 “Maybe you should get out of this dripping coat,” he mumbles on my lips.

 “Yeah, you’re right,” I reply, let him go and throw my coat and my suit jacket on the floor. Then I kick my shoes off my feet. Simon pulls me back on my shirt and my lips find his again. I feel how the blood shoots back into my face, into my hands.

 A knock sounds from the door. I jerk back. We both stare at the door.

 “I’m not gonna open it,” I say with narrowed eyebrows, still one hand resting on Simon’s shoulder.

 “But we can’t just ignore it,” Simon says and gets up. My hand drops. I try to hold him back but he already reached the door. He straightens his shirt and tries to order his hair. Then he opens it. Daphne stands in front of him and hands him a fully-loaded tray with leftovers of the dinner. Just the smell makes me feel the black hole in my stomach again. Then she leaves without a word. Simon closes the door and grins at me.

 “Hungry?” he asks and comes back to me with the tray. He places it between us and gives me one of the two forks. Daphne must have seen that I wasn’t the only one not eating during dinner. Simon couldn't barely eat, either. She’s really trying today. 

 “Honestly,” I say, “I’m starving.” I pick up a potato and shove it between my teeth. My fangs pop out immediately. Crowley, I could swallow everything down at once. Simon can hardly restrain himself either. But we both try to chew slowly. None of us talks while we eat, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, facing each other. We both get rid of our ties and roll up our sleeves. I cast the melted snow away, dry our clothes, light a fire in the chimney and after a few minutes, I’m totally relaxed. The food, the warmth and the fact that Simon looks fine again makes me feel way better than before.

 “I really wish I could eat like that every day,” Snow says while we’re picking the last pieces from our plate.

 “You want to eat Christmas dinner _every_ day?” I ask him, chewing.

 “No,” he responds, licking gravy from his fork. “I mean just as good as this meal. Penny cooks fine but this is a different level.”

 “ _No_ ,” I say and fall on my side, pushing up my head with one arm.

 “What?”

 “I know what you want to say.” I stretch my legs and feel my fangs vanishing. “And my answer is and will be _forever_ no.”

 “But it could be fun,” Simon answers and lays the fork back on the tray. “We should at least try it.”

 “No. I won’t go there. I still have a bit of dignity.”

 “That’s overdramatic,” he replies and rolls on his belly, placing his head on his crossed arms and looks at me.

 “I’m not overdramatic,” I say. “I’m just…”

 “Yeah?” He grins at me. I try to look serious.

 “I just don’t think, we’re that hopeless. We really should try it again. Maybe it’ll be better.”

 “No. I’m hundred percent sure it won’t.”

 “And I won’t do it because then Bunce would earn her full triumph. And I can’t stand that.”

 “Seriously, Baz?” He shakes his head and I watch how a few of his curls fall on his forehead.

 “Yes,” I say. “She’s already dead to me.”

 “Oh, come on.”

 “That she really dared to…” I fall on my back and look at the ceiling.

 “She just wanted to help,” Simon says and tips with his foot against mine.

 “Oh no. No. She knew how this would mock us.”

 “Well, it doesn’t mock me,” he says shrugging.

 “Then you should go there. But without me.” I squint at him. His skin shines golden in the light of the fire.

 “It’s called _Couple Cooking_. I can’t go there _alone_.”

 “You can take Bunce with you. After all, it was her idea.”

 “It was her Christmas gift for _us_.” He lifts himself up and bends over me. His face is hanging over mine now. “ _And_ Penny isn’t my boyfriend.”

 I lay one hand on his chest, so he’s not crashing into me. “You could act like she’s your _girl_ friend.”

 “No.” He frowns. “That’s awkward.”

 “ _Everything_ about a _Couple Cooking Course_ is awkward.”

 “ _We_ wouldn’t be awkward,” he says grinning. “We would be _cool_.”

 This makes me laugh. But then, out of nowhere, a creepy version of _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ starts playing.

 “For Crowley’s Sake, you have to change this terrible ringtone, Snow! Can you imagine how my parents would’ve reacted if it had rung during dinner?” I sit up and Simon grabs for his coat on the floor to search his mobile.

 “I thought it was on mute,” he mumbles and fishes his vibrating phone out of his pocket.

 “Obviously not.” I lean against the bedpost. “And who dares to call you on Christmas?”

 “Penny.”

 “Speaking of the devil.”

 He takes the call. “Hey, Penny.”

 “Turn on speaker!” I say and kick with my foot against his knee. He turns it on and I can hear Bunce’s voice shouting through the phone.

 “Hey, Simon! How was the dinner of hell?” she shouts. You can hear people laughing and talking in the background.

 “Hey Bunce,” I say. “The vampire is also on phone.”

 “Oh, hey Baz.” There’s a loud rumble to hear.

 “Everything alright, Penny?” Snow asks. He glances at me.

 “Yeah. I just have to get out of here for a moment. My family. The house is jam-packed.” I hear a shutting door and a few seconds later she’s back on phone. “So, now again. How was your dinner?”

 I look at Simon. He seems unsure what to say. So am I.

 “Wow. Silence. This must have been terrible,” Penny says as no one of us answers. “I feel sorry for you, boys.”

 “Did you just call to ask how our evening was?” I ask her.

 “No. I wanted to tell you something.” She waits a moment until she goes on. “Well actually, I wanted to tell _Simon_ something.”

 “Thanks,” I mutter with raised eyebrows.

 “No… It’s just…personal.”

 “And?” I ask before Simon can answer.

 “I just don’t know if you’re such a big help if I’d tell you.” She sounds a bit sheepish.

 “ _Such a big help?”_ I repeat. “I thought you just want to tell us – _Simon_ – something.”

 “I mean you would add your shit to it and this would ruin my good mood, okay?”

 “I don’t…I thought you don’t care about my opinion? And Simon would tell me anyway.” I poke him because I want him to defend me. He’s still searching for words.

 “No, he wouldn’t,” Bunce responds. Simon doesn’t answer. Me neither. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

 “Err…,” Snow stutters. “Well, I didn’t tell him _everything_ …”

 “Nicks and Slicks, you two are worse than my parents! Did you tell him about Micah?”

 “That you two broke up because you don’t want to move to America and leave Simon?” I say sneering. Snow gives me an angry look. I ignore him.

 “ _Simon!”_ she shouts and I giggle.

 “He would have recognized it either way,” he tries to explain. “And I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to tell him.”

 “ _He_ is also your friend. At least a half,” I say. “Why aren’t I allowed to know stuff like this?”

“ _Great snakes_ ,” she groans. “I tell you both. Are you happy now?”

 “Like a little child on Christmas day,” I answer, fall on my back and cross my arms behind my head. “Let’s start your heartache-box-talk.”

 “I knew why I only wanted to talk to you, Simon,” she says, probably head shaking.

 “Just ignore him,” he responds and rests his head on my chest, holding the phone in his hands.

 “Okay. Well. Micah called me today.”

 “ _Aha!”_ I shout and Simon punches me with his elbow in my ribs.

 “What did he want?” he asks her calmly.

 “He wanted to talk,” she says.

 “That’s weird. Why should somebody call you to _talk_?” I get another punch for that.

 “He wanted to _talk_ about us. He wanted to tell me that he still wants to be with me. Even if I don’t come to America soon.”

 “That’s great, Penny!” Simon answers. I remove one arm from the back of my head and start playing with his hair.

 “Yeah. And it gets even better! He said that he could study in Great Britain. That he could move to London or at least near London. So, I don’t have to leave Europe for now. I don’t have to leave you.”

 “Is this good news?” I tease her.

 “You two _need_ me as your babysitter. I have to make sure you both go to this course and learn to feed yourself.”

 “I will _never_ –”

 “When does Micah plan to come?” Simon interrupts me. I twirl one of his curls around my finger.

 “In February,” she answers. “He wants to visit a few colleges before he decides where he wants to study.”

 “Wait,” I say. “Just to clarify: He moves to London without knowing where he wants to study only because _you_ don’t want to move to America because you can’t leave _Simon_?”

 “Yes.”

 “Wow.” I’m truly surprised. “Why did you two even break up in the first place when you’re so addicted to each other?”

 “I thought you know why?”

 “Not the dirty details. I only know that Snow was the problem.”

 He turns his face and frowns at me.

 “We didn’t break up because of Simon. I’m just not ready to leave London. It isn’t Simon’s fault. You know that, Simon, don’t you? I chose this all on my own.”

 “I know, Penny. You told me several times.”

 “Yeah, because you tend to blame yourself for something like this.”

 “You broke up with your boyfriend, who you _always_ wanted to marry after Watford because you don’t want to leave _me_. Why should I blame myself?”

 “ _Simon_ ,” I whisper and ruffle gently his hair. I regret that I even mentioned this topic.

 “We’re back together now, so it doesn’t matter anymore,” Bunce says. “Okay?”

 He doesn’t react.

 “ _Okay_ , Simon?” she repeats insistently.

 “Yeah. Okay, Pen,” he answers finally. “I promise I don’t blame myself anymore.”

 “Well, that doesn’t sound confident.” She clears her throat. “Baz, please remember him from time to time that it wasn’t his fault, okay? Sometimes he listens to you better than to me.”

 “Promise,” I say. (Even if I’m not as good at encouraging him as I would like to be.)

 “You know that I can hear you two, don’t you?” Simon glances over at me.

 “Anyway. These weren’t all news I wanted to share,” Bunce continues.

 “What’s the rest of the gossip?” I ask.

 “Agatha called me today, too.”

 “ _What?_ ” Simon lifts his head from my chest and sits up straight in front of his phone.

 “Did you only _phone_ the whole Christmas day?” I sit up too and place my chin on Simon’s shoulder, so I’m still in the speaker zone.

 “Why did _Agatha_ call you?” Simon asks tensely.

 “I guess you know why,” Bunce answers. Hell, I do. “She was really confused about your phone call two days ago.”

 “What did she say?” Simon’s fingers clasp the phone like he needs something to hold on. I untie his one hand and cross my fingers with his.

 “She thought you two were joking. Then I thought she was joking –although this kind of joke is totally untypical for Agatha.” There is a short pause. She probably swallows. Then she goes on. “ _You didn’t tell her? For one fucking year?!”_

 For a moment I’m scared because it sounds like she’s standing right next to me and is shouting into my face.

 “I hardly spoke to her,” Simon defends us. “It wasn’t important for her to know. And after all, why didn’t _you_ tell her?”

 “She was _your_ girlfriend, Simon! I was just a witness in this weird love-triangle. Even if I was totally wrong with everything back then. I still wonder how I couldn’t realize it earlier…”

 “Did you tell her that I wasn’t joking?” I ask impatiently.

 “Yeah. I told her everything.”

“ _Everything?_ ” Simon frowns.

 “When it started. _How_ it started. It’s all so dramatic and romantic – I couldn’t stop myself.”

 “I never should’ve told you,” Simon mutters, shaking his head.

 “I even told her about my name for you two.”

 “ _You didn’t!_ ” Simon buries his face in my shoulder. I pet his head to solace him. “Did you come up with this shit or Penny?” he mumbles into my shirt. I have to grin.

 “I guess…it was just… _there_ ,” I say slowly.

 “Anyway,” Bunce gets our attention back. “Now she knows about _SnowBaz_ ,” Simon groans but she continues, “and she was…well, kind of surprised. Confused. Disturbed. Shocked. Every feeling you can have when you find out that your Ex and your dark love interest,” I grimace in disgust, “are a couple for one year – and you don’t know anything about it. That’s hard stuff to process. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell her…”

 “But didn’t you say you wrote her?” Simon asks confused. “Didn’t it occur to you then that she doesn’t know about Baz?”

 “The last time I wrote with her was…let me think…August. And we only talked about school and stuff. She barely told me anything and I just reassured her that everything’s fine.”

 “So, now she knows,” I say shrugging. “Who cares?”

 “My word,” Bunce agrees. That’s rare.

 “Did you do anything else than saving and explaining love stories today?” I ask her.

 “Not really. I spoke three hours with Micah and two with Agatha.”

 “ _Two hours?_ ” Simon rubs his forehead. “How much details did you tell her?”

 “How much did _you_ tell _her?!”_ I respond in disbelieve.

 “You don’t know how much Agatha can talk when she has…all the feelings she had right at this moment,” Bunce answers. “But to change the subject: What happened at this dinner tonight? You made me really curious.”

 “Sorry, but it’s too late to explain this right now,” I say. “We probably should –”

 “No! Simon, tell me!”

 “I’ll tell you when we see us after Christmas,” Simon answers nervously. He’s still leaning against my shoulder. “I’m too tired to repeat all this mess today.”

 “Merlin, you two are so boring,” she complains. “But I want to hear every single detail, okay?”

 “Good night, Bunce.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Simon**

 

 “We should’ve told her,” I say, staring at my home screen.

 “Let’s forget Agatha, okay?”

 “Maybe I should call her.” I search her number in my contacts. I’ve got it from Penny but I never used it. “I can explain to her why we didn’t tell her. Or at least try it.”

 Baz grabs my phone out of my hands. “You won’t call Agatha tonight. We had enough drama for today,” he says and turns off my phone. I try to get it back but he catches my wrist.

 “You’re wearing it,” he mumbles smiling. My sleeve has slid back and a black leather bracelet had come to light.    

 “Of course, I wear it,” I say and let my hand rest in his. “It’s from you, so I love it.” I look into his eyes. He’s blushing a bit.    

 “I thought you won’t wear it,” Baz says with one raised eyebrow, while he turns the bracelet around my wrist.

 “Why wouldn’t I?” I reply. “You made it all by yourself for me, so, I’ll never give it away. I just don’t understand why for Merlin’s tooth you decided to carve this stupid name in it…”

 “It’s not stupid,” he responds sneering. “You really have to accept it because it will haunt you for the rest of your life. And even after that, I’m immortal. I will carve it into your tombstone after your death.”

“The world’s leading expert on vampires hasn’t found a confirmation for that yet.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should take a look at his newly published book,” Baz says grinning.

 I thought a long time about a Christmas present for Baz. Because it’s everything but easy. And I hadn’t the smallest idea. I didn’t only want to surprise him with the flight. I wanted to give him something that comes from me and that he could keep. So, one day I got so desperate that Penny grabbed me, sat me down at the kitchen table and forced me to list everything that comes into my mind when I think about Baz. And hell, that’s a lot. Penny wrote it all down in cues. And as I finished, it sounded like a list of random facts about him. At this point, I was really annoyed because I couldn’t see any sense behind it. But Penny had an idea. She told me to write it all down – in whole sentences – and to put it in an order. She even forced me to write it on my laptop. (What’s good, I guess. My handwriting is a disaster. At least that’s what Baz says.) And after a few days, I had a nice collection of funny, awkward, weird and charming facts about my vampire boyfriend, I collected the last eight years. I decided to name it: _“How to Be a Vampire – From the World’s Leading Expert”._ It’s nothing big but it’s personal and funny at the same time – and I think that’s what matters. I know I’m not that good at saying things sometimes, unlike to Baz. I’m just not that good with words than he is. But apparently, I’m way better in writing them. So, like this, I found a way to say some things to him which he should hear – which he deserves to hear. (But it’s not only kind stuff. I also used this book for some revenge.)

 When I gave it to Baz this morning he started laughing for five whole minutes. But he held this little book like something very valuable in his hands. He hasn’t read all of it yet but he seemed like he would enjoy all these little teasings and flirts.

 “He’s still observing one to figure it out. In a few years, he will know.” I lay down next to him, so my head is resting on his shoulder again.

 “I hope they aren’t,” Baz whispers and wraps one arm around me. “Why should they want to live in a world without their clumsy Chosen One?”

He still calls me that sometimes. His Chosen one. I don’t know what to answer, so I just snuggle up to him and close my eyes. I feel his lips on my forehead.

 “Merry Christmas, love,” he says softly and his breath tickles my cheeks. We rest like this for maybe half an hour. Perhaps longer, because I fall asleep for a while and when I wake up again, the coals in the fireplace almost stopped glowing. (I remember dreaming about this stupid baby eating my tail. But this time it was really _eating_ it. With his fangs.)

 “How late is it?” I ask Baz sleepy and squint at him. He still lays next to me and I’m sure he watched me the whole time I slept. I’m used to it.

 “Not that late,” he answers. “A little while ago I heard Mordelia playing a Christmas serenade on her piano. _Awful_. It’s not always amusing to have vampire ears.”

 “Your stepmother,” I say. “She wanted you to play, too.”

 He shrugs. “I won’t play anything for them. After this scene.”

 “I would’ve liked to hear you play. I never heard you before.”

 “Yes, you did.”

 “No.”

 “ _Yes_. Fifth-year remember? You followed me everywhere. Including to my violin lessons.”

 I sit up and face him. “You know it? You knew I was there?” I ask surprised.

 “I’m a vampire, not a moron,” he says and grins with one half of his mouth. “I could smell _and_ hear you. You weren’t that invisible as you thought, Snow.”

 “Oh.” I shrug. “Well, but I never _heard_ you.”

 Baz frowns at me.

 “I mean I never really _listen_ to you because I _wanted_ to. I only spied on you because –”

 “…you were obsessed with me.”

 “Because I thought you were a vampire,” I say. “So, I didn’t pay attention to the music. To _you_.”

  Baz sits up, too. “It’s not that outstanding,” he says bored. “My grandfather used to play. Father thinks I inherited his talent.”

 “Can you play something?” I ask excitedly. “I mean now. For me.”

 “I’m not sure if you really would –”

 “I’d love to hear you play!” I lean a bit forward. “Really.”   

 He rubs his forehead, shaking his head.

 “Come on,” I beg. “Please, Baz. For me.”

 He grumbles something and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “But first we have to get my violin out of the library,” he says and gets up on his feet.

 “You would really do it?” I ask delighted. “Wow, you’re easy to persuade.” I crawl of the bed and follow Baz to the door. He lays his hand on the doorknob and turns his face to me.

 “We have to be very quiet, okay?” he says. “I don’t want to run into my parents or one of the kids.”

 I nod grinning (because I can’t help myself) and we both step into the corridor. It’s completely empty. Neither Baz nor I are wearing shoes, so we walk in socks (I wear red Watford socks and Baz grey ones) and without our jackets and ties downstairs. This house is so huge. I would need days to explore all corners. What am I talking? – I would need _weeks!_

 I don’t really know why, but this sneaking around makes me high-spirited. I feel a bit like a little kid which plans something naughty. Which isn’t true because technically we don’t want to steal or something like this. After all, it’s Baz’s violin. We just have to get past his parents, who are probably sitting inside the library – that’s what Baz suspects.

 I have to stop myself from giggling while we hide behind a corner, because Vera walks past us. Baz glances at me with one raised eyebrow.

 “What’s up, Snow?” he whispers.

 “Nothing,” I answer and try to make a straight face. I fail. Baz shakes his head, but his lips curl themselves to a little smile.

 “Come,” he says and takes my hand in his. “Let’s steal a violin.”

 A year ago, I was used to real adventures. Like slaughtering dragons or escaping chimeras. But now my life is pretty normal. I’m a Normal. (If you forget about the wings and the tail.) There’s still magic in my life because of Baz and Penny but no more _life and death_ situations. So, sneaking around the house of Baz’s parents and try not to get caught, is one of the most exciting things I can do.

 Just before we reach the library, Baz’s little sister – Mordelia – runs into us.

 “Oh, hello Basil,” she mumbles, then she stares at me. And at our still crossed fingers. “You’re still here?”

 “Yeah.” I let go of Baz’s hand.

 “You two missed dessert.” She’s wearing a red dress and her brown hair is braided into two pigtails.

 “We survived it,” Baz says coldly. “Are mum and dad in the library?”

 “Yes. They wanted to talk about something. I had to leave, so I’m on my way to bed.” She’s still staring at me. I wish she wouldn’t. “Why do you ask?”

 Baz tilts his head to one side. He seems like his mind has just come up with a great plan. “Well…,” he says and lays his hand around a vase which is standing on a little cupboard next to us. “How would mummy and daddy react,” he shoves the porcelain vase to the edge, “if they would find this _very_ expensive and precious vase laying _shattered_ on the ground? And they knew that you walked along here…” He pushes it from the board with a sneer. It shatters into a million pieces. (The second one today. But nothing a **As** **you were** couldn’t repair.) Mordelia jumps a step back.

 “Maybe you should call for them and tell what you’ve done.” He crouches in front of her and gives her a dangerously friendly smile. The face of his sister grimaces to an angry pout. I scratch my head and look at my feet.

 “This wasn’t me,” she says and crosses her arms over her chest.

 “Oh, you were,” Baz replies nodding. “Who else could it have been? There’s no one here but you.”

 “I will tell them it was you and your weird friend.”

 “You won’t.” The smile vanishes out of his face. “You will go to them and say you accidentally broke one of mum’s vases. You will cry, so both of them come with you to help you clean up your mess. Both of them have to leave the room. That’s important, you understand?”

 “I won’t cry!” she complains and shakes her head. “I did nothing wrong.”

 “You don’t want me to call Bunce – Santa’s evil henchman, you remember? I’ll tell him that you were very, very naughty and he will come tonight and get you.” Baz glances up to me. I don’t know what to say. I just nod. I don’t like to frighten little kids. But Baz is pretty good at it. He even seems to enjoy it. In our first years, he made me cry almost every day. I never thought I would forgive him for that but I guess I did. Probably I forgave him for everything he did to me during school. Even the **Cat got your tongue** in our third year or when he pushed me down the stairs. It’s crazy how things can change...

 “How would you do that?” Mordelia asks and raises her chin. “As if he has a phone number.”  

 “Oh, he has.” Baz straightens up and pulls his mobile out of his pocket. He opens his contacts and shows her Penelope’s number, which he has stored under the name _Bunce_ without a picture of her.

 “Why do you have the number of Santa’s henchman?” Now she looks really scared. I don’t know whether I want to laugh or cry.

 “ _Because_ ,” Baz says and leans forward so his face levitates only a few inches in front of hers, “I’m the naughtiest person on earth and are befriended with him. And I will call him right now and tell him that he should punish you if you don’t do what I’m saying.”

 Mordelia’s eyes are filled with tears now. I have to stare at my hands.

 “You’re are so mean!” she cries and her chin starts trembling. “I will tell mum! Or even dad! He’s already mad at you!”

 Baz presses the call bottom. The phone starts beeping. Mordelia looks shocked.

 “Go and get mum and dad and tell them what I did!” he menaces her. His nose almost touches hers. “Then the _very_ evil Bunce will come to you tonight and get you. No one will see how he pulls you through the dark, _dark_ chimney. No one will hear your desperate screams. Not even the wraiths.”

 Tears run over her face. I have to clear my throat. The phone still beeps. Baz’s obviously playing for time. If Penny would pick up, his prank will be over.

 “You can’t –”

 “ _I can!”_ he interrupts her with a frightening tense voice. Mordelia swallows. Then she turns around and runs back to the library. (I haven’t any idea where the library is, but I’m sure she’s on the way to it. Baz has won.) ( _Typical._ )

 He hangs off the phone, then he shoves me through a door next to us.

 “Hurry up,” he whispers at me and pulls me with him. He leads us through a parallel corridor which ends in a living room, which is on the opposite of the library. (I presume it’s a living room. There are sofas and armchairs… This house has so many rooms filled with just sitting opportunities. They probably can’t even use them all in their whole lifetime.) I hear the voices of Baz’s parents, but I can’t understand what they’re saying. I guess Mordelia hasn’t reached them yet.

 “What –,” I want to ask but Baz silences me by laying his finger on my lips. His face gets a strained look. He narrows his eyebrows and wrinkles his nose.

 “What is?” I ask again with a soft voice and push his hand away.

 “I can hear them,” he mumbles. “And _of course,_ they’re talking about _us_.” 

 “What are they saying?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a quick THANK YOU to everyone who read this far and left kudos! This means the world to me! <3  
> I hope you enjoy the rest of the story as well. :)

**Baz**

                                                                                                                                        

  _“You upset him so much that he wanted to leave!”_

_“Because we can’t just watch how he ruins our whole reputation, Daphne! The old families already rumour about them. A Pitch and the Mage’s heir Simon Snow? That’s nothing but unacceptable!”_

_“You never gave him a chance. The boy is obviously important to Basil. So, you should at least try to accept him. And he isn’t even the Mage’s heir anymore.”_

_“He isn’t a mage at all anymore. He’s a Normal. And a boy. There’s nothing more I have to know!”_

 “What are they saying?” Simon asks me.

 “Well, they just talk about the biggest disappointment of the Pitches.” I look at my hands. He doesn’t have to know what my father says about him. He endured enough insulting today.  

 “ _Hey_ ,” Simon whispers and his fingers touch my elbow. His eyes search for my gaze.

 “ _Mum! Dad!_ ” Mordelia runs down the corridor next to us. Simon fingers slide down my arm and I turn away from him to glance inside the corridor. I see Mordelia bursting through the door inside the library. Her face is full of tears. I have to admit that I feel at least a bit guilty.

 “What happened?” Daphne asks and steps in the doorway. My father is right behind her. Quickly, I jerk back behind the wall because I don’t want them to see me.

 “I…I accidentally…broke something.”

 “That’s no reason to cry,” Daphne says calmly. “Show me what it is. I will repair it.”

 “No, you both have to come!” Mordelia’s voice sounds desperate. I peek around the corner again. Her eyes meet mine, just for a second. My parents are so focused on her that they don’t recognize me. I hold up my phone with Bunce’s number. She swallows, then she grabs for Daphne’s and Father’s hand and pulls them out of the room. _Good job, dear sister._

 As soon as the three of them step out of the library and face the door with their back, I pull out my wand and speak **Come to me** and my violin and the bow fly from its place over the doorway, through the corridor, into my hands. I turn to Simon and raise the violin.

 “Mission accomplished,” I say smiling. “Let’s get back!” We skulk back through the corridor we came from so we don’t meet the others. Only a few moments before we would’ve got out of the dangerous zone, my mobile starts ringing. I stop abruptly and Snow crashes into me. I drop the violin which shatters to the ground – with a _very_ loud bang. We both freeze. Snow stares at me with wide opened eyes. I hear the voice of my stepmother in a small distance shouting my name. _Fuck!_

 “I’m _so_ sor –,” Simon starts but I grab him by his sleeve. With the other hand I grasp for the broken instrument and then we _run_. We run up the stairs while I try to turn off my damn phone. Bunce is trying to call me. _Of course._ She probably wonders why I called her before. Both, Father and Daphne are shouting through the house now. My father in a tantrum and my stepmother trying to calm him down. Perhaps Mordelia told them that we were there. And what I said to her.

 We chase through the corridors and slide around corners. I almost fall once because the floor is so slippery without shoes. (Snow does fall. Two times.) As we finally reach our door, I push against it and we both crash inside the room.

 “ _Crowley_ ,” I burst out while I fall to the ground and gasp – laying on my back – for air. The violin still in my arms. Snow leans against the door and slips down on it to the ground. His face is completely flushed.

 “ _This_ was,” he starts, panting and with his finger pointing at me, “one of the _most_ stupid things,” he takes a deep breath, “I’ve _ever_ done!”

 “ _No_ ,” I say and shake my head, still laying on the floor. “It definitely _wasn’t_.” Then we both burst out into heavy laughter. Maybe it’s because everything occurs to be extra funny when you’re lying on the ground but we can barely stop. I need at least three minutes to calm myself down and even then Simon can’t breathe steadily. I sit up and lay the violin and its bow on my lap. Then I clear my throat and speak **As you were** with my wand pointing at it. The broken neck repairs itself and also the buckled bow gets back into its right form.

 “Don’t you think that your father will follow us? That he comes to your room to scream at us?” Simon asks with his head resting against the door.

 “No.” I shake my head again. I feel totally blushed from all the laughing. “I don’t think he will follow his nineteen-year-old son and his boyfriend inside his room. Even my father has this much decency.”

 Simon breathes in relief. “So, who the hell called you?”

 “Bunce,” I answer. “I’ll pay her back. If she hadn’t called, this all could’ve been so easy.”

 “Without her, we wouldn’t even got this far.” He gets up to his feet and falls down on the sofa. “She will hate you if she finds out that you use her to frighten your eight-year-old sister.”

 “Come on, this was fun,” I say and strike with my fingers along the strings of my violin.

 “This was _mean_. You made her _cry!_ ”

 “Sorry, have you met me?”

 Simon just grumbles something and searches for a comfortable position on the sofa. “Go on then. I want to hear you play. After all, this was the reason for all this...” He waves his hand around as if he’s unable to come up with a suitable word.

 I get up to my feet and smooth my shirt. Then I place the chinrest of the violin on its place and with the other hand, I take the bow. I glance at Simon and let them both drop again.

 “What?” he asks confused. He leans against the armrest, sitting on his knees. His eyes are full of expectation.

 “I can’t play if you look at me like this,” I say and tap with the bow against my leg.

 “Like what?” He tries to look neutral. Doesn’t work.

 “Like I’m going to do the most spectacular thing in the world. I will not transform into a bat or something. It’s just violin.”

 “Should I look away?” he asks frowning. “Or go into the bathroom and press my ear against the door so I can hear you? Would you feel better then?”

 “Crowley, Snow. Stop talking like me.”

 This makes him grin. “Just play,” he says shrugging. “And I swear I won’t expect that you will turn into a bat. Though, this would be _incredibly_ cool.”

 “Shut up, Snow,” I mumble and raise the violin to my chin again. I decide to play one of my best pieces. It’s a classic and slow one. He still looks at me with these huge eyes but I try to ignore him. I usually don’t like to play in front of people. And I don’t know why but I get nervous even now when I just have to play in front of him.

 I swallow. Then I start playing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Simon**

 

It’s not like that I never heard someone playing violin before. And I already heard Baz playing – through the doors of his violin class but still. But I never really saw it. Baz face is totally relaxed and at the same time concentrated. He moves the bow over the strings in such a smooth way that it seems like the bow would lead his hand –  not the other way around. I don’t know the song he is playing, which is no surprise. I don’t know anything about music. But I like it. The melody is beautiful. It kind of fits to Baz.

 As he finished the piece he remains for a few more seconds in this position. I start applauding.

 “Hell, Snow. Stop it,” he mutters and removes the violin from his chin. His cheeks are blushed.

 “This was amazing, Baz!” I say. “You…you should give concerts. You could be famous!”

 “I’m just one of many guys with a violin in his hands, Snow. There’s nothing remarkable about it.” He sits down on the end of the bed, which is across of me. “But thanks…I guess.”

 “How long do you play?” I ask. “Do you think I could learn it, too? Oh, this would be cool. Then we could play together and get rich.”

 “I’m not sure if this is the right thing for you,” Baz answers and chews on his bottom lip.

 “Can I at least try it? Can you show me how to hold it?”

 “If you really want to. But it’s really not that easy –”

 “Just let me try. Maybe I’m a naturally talented person.”

 “ _You?”_ he gets up, drumming with the bow against his knee. “A naturally talented person in violin? This would be news.”

 “Give me a chance,” I complain and jump off the couch. “Perhaps you underestimate me. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

 “I’ve said nothing,” he raises his hands in innocence. “Try it. Maybe you’re right.”

 He hands me his violin into my left hand and the bow into the right. Then he moves my arm into the right position and places the end of the violin between my collarbone and my chin. It feels way more uncomfortable as I thought it would.

 “Relax your fingers,” he says and shoves them one after one to their proper places. “And now take the bow.” He tips against my elbow to bring it to the right height. I feel like a dummy which gets moved into its right pose.

 “Can I try a tone?” I ask excitedly.

 “Yeah. But be careful. You only need light pressure.” Baz stops bending me into shape and takes a step back. He pulls out his phone and holds it up in front of me. “Sorry, but I have to take a photo. Simon Snow with a violin. Crowley, that’s awesome.”

 “I don’t know whether this is a compliment or not,” I mumble frowning, while I try not to move. 

 “Of course, it is,” he says grinning and slips his phone back into his pocket. “Come on. Let’s play!”

 I move the bow over the strings but it only makes a very skew sound. How could I think even for a second, I’ve got talent for it?

 “Wait a moment,” Baz says when he sees my disappointed face. He moves behind me and places his hand on my hand holding the bow. He wraps his other arm around my left one and embraces my hand, which holds the neck of the violin, with his. He shoves my fingers from the strings and places his there instead. His face is right behind my ear now.

 “First, you have to untighten your grip around the bow.” He loosens my fingers a bit. “Then, relax your neck and your shoulder. You don’t need that much tension there.” I feel his hand on the back of my neck when he tilts my head a bit. I must admit that I can hardly concentrate anymore…

 “Now try again. Together.” He lays his hand back on mine and pushes my hand forward. He leads the bow over the strings and this time it sounds way better. (But that has nothing to do with me, I’m sure.)

 I (Baz) starts playing a slow song. It sounds nearly perfect – only a few times I get too much pressure in my hand and mess up the tone.

 “We really should give concerts like this. That would be something new,” Baz whispers while he continues the melody. I feel his breath on my ear. I mess up again.

 “Yep. We definitely should,” I mumble back. Baz moves my hand for a last slow tone, then he lets go of my hands.

 “With a bit help, you’re really a _naturally talented person._ ” He still stands right behind me.

  I chuckle and turn around to him. “Maybe I do better with an instrument where I just have to press bottoms. Like a piano.”

 “Or a radio,” Baz responds sneering and takes his violin out of my hands. “Never mind. You can’t shine with everything.”

 “Well, I don’t _shine_ with _anything_ , do I?” I ask frowning.

 “That’s not true,” he answers softly. “You shine more than anyone I know.” He leans forward to kiss me gently. I lay one hand on his chest and pull him on his shirt closer to me. (I’m sure I would really _shine_ in this moment if I still would have my magic.)

 “Can you play one more?” I whisper smiling as he presses his forehead against mine. “Can you play one more song for me?”

 “I’m not sure if I can let go of you right now,” he answers while his hand plays with my fingers. It tingles the whole way up to my shoulder.

 “Please,” I mumble and nudge my nose against his. “Just one more.”

 “Okay,” he sighs. “I’ll try.”

 Baz needs a little while before he manages to step back from me, then he clears his throat, strokes his hair out of his face and raises the violin back to his shoulder. He looks at me and I grin broadly. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes and starts playing. It’s a new song. I cuddle up on the bed and listen to him. It’s so beautiful. And with the melody in my ears and a smile on my lips, I fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Baz**

 

The song I chose to play isn’t random. I used to play it the whole summer after the fifth year. And the sixth. And the seventh. It’s about an unrequited love. (I couldn’t help myself. I have always been hopelessly romantic. I’m not ashamed of it.)

 While I play, I almost forget everything we went through today. I forget about my father and the words he said. I forget about my tantrum, the snowstorm and the damn car. I forget about Simon’s tears. About mine. All I feel is the music, which runs from my arms through my whole body. I almost forget that Simon’s listening.

 When I finish the song and open my eyes again, he’s fallen asleep. His legs are pulled up and his hands cling to the blanket next to his face. He looks so peaceful. You would never think that he screamed and cried a few hours ago. 

 I lay my violin and the bow on the couch and turn off the light. (It’s magickal, not electric.) I still see everything. For a second I think about going hunting, but I don’t want to leave Simon alone right now. (Not that I ever want to.)

 So, I crawl onto the bed and bury my face in his curls. He grumbles something in his sleep and his one hand reaches behind his back for my arm and pulls it around his waist. I have no idea if he’s awake or not, but I tug him closer anyway and kiss his hair gently.

 “Sweet dreams, Simon,” I whisper and then I fall asleep, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to every reader! <3 I hoped you enjoyed this little story :)
> 
>  
> 
> My next SnowBaz story - Snowday - will follow soon :)


End file.
